


One Thousand

by Blucifer



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Journalism, Alternate Universe - Noir, Anal Sex, Cigarettes, Condoms, Corruption, M/M, Masturbation, Photography, Press and Tabloids, Private Investigators, dark room sex, somewhat clueless Seungmin, undercover Hyunjin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blucifer/pseuds/Blucifer
Summary: Seungmin didn’t dream of working for a shady tabloid or even moonlighting as a third rate private eye when he enrolled in Columbia’s journalism program. But tuition and his roach infested studio in the city aren’t cheap. Seungmin gets far more than he ever asked for when his coworker Hyunjin, who usually works the society beat, asks him to develop some of his photos.If a picture is worth one thousand words, he’d use at least eight hundred of them to describe the perfectness of Hyunjin’s cock.
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Seungmin
Comments: 17
Kudos: 130





	One Thousand

**Author's Note:**

> I started this last night. I post it today.

“Oh fuck,” Hyunjin makes a big show of looking at the watch around his wrist. It’s sterling, Tiffany & Co, as Hyunjin has announced several times, and definitely cost way more than Seungmin’s rusted out car. “If I wanna make it over the bridge in time for the gala red carpet I need to leave…Ten minutes ago.” 

“Philharmonic?” Seungmin asks. Season tickets are a pipe dream for him. Once or twice a year he manages to snag a ticket, usually to the less popular shows. 

“Yeah.” Hyunjin purses his lip in crimson red light. Shifts from one foot to another in anxious apprehension. It’s the look of someone about to ask a favor that he knows he doesn’t deserve. “I just pulled these. Can you rinse them?” 

“You could let me do the job.” Yeah, he thinks that celebrity and gossip writers like Hyunjin undermine the _entire_ principle of journalistic integrity. But right now? He just wants to abuse the press pass, and that _also_ undermines the _entire_ principle of journalistic integrity. But it’s the _orchestra_ for god’s sake. 

“Yeah, first of all if you think they’re letting anyone from _Mail_ in, even with a press pass, you’ve got another thing coming.” 

“Ugh,” Seungmin grimaces in displeasure. 

“Well you know, no beat is perfect.” Hyunjin’s got that right. Usually the hardest part of the job is finding whichever coffee and donut shop the cops have claimed as their own this week. But then there’s times like _last_ week where he got chased down an alley by a kid with a knife who probably should’ve been in junior high. He’s _got_ to get off the crime beat...“So will you? I’ll make it worth your while.” Arched brow, asymmetrical smirk, and the insinuation that Hyunjin can get whatever he wants simply because he’s pretty and he knows that Seungmin freezes at the slightest bit of attention from a good looking man. “I’ll treat you to lunch tomorrow.” 

Seungmin agitates the photo paper he has in the chemical bath with long silver tongs. “I don’t know--” So far all of these shots are shit and he’s going to have to go _all_ the way down the roll at this rate. 

Hyunjin’s already shrugging on his coat. “C’mon man, Rigatoni’s for _free_ .” It’s the hole in the wall pizza and pasta shop across the street. Although they _only_ go there because it’s so close, it must also some kind of addictive chemical in the sauce because he’s been legitimately craving it lately. 

“Rigatoni’s? When you’ve been flashing that watch in my face all day?” Seungmin speaks like a man who's already resigned himself. 

“Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. I’ll get us a table at the tasting room. But only for happy hour and you have to order something on special.” Hyunjin wraps his scarf under his chin in a tight knot and snaps up his camera bag. “Deal?” 

“Deal.” 

Seungmin agitates the photos he’s soaked in developer one last time. In the red glow of safelight, his hands barely look like his own. Knobby appendages move independently of his own body pushing robot finger tongs. He dips the photo paper into developer chemicals. Bringing forth images that he knows he captured on film, but the memories seem cloudy.

Slowly, developer chemical seeps into the paper and reveals to him, backwards, and upside-down, a blurry image of a blonde, her roots showing, standing naked in view of the window, her back facing the camera. 

She’s kinda bony...If Seungmin was going to have an affair with _a woman,_ he’s pretty sure he’d pick one with more curves...But that’s just him. 

Seungmin’s never _ever_ cursed a reluctant subject so much before. He has _nothing to go on._ His client’s wife doesn’t just want to know her husband is having an affair, she wants to know _with who._ She suspects the babysitter of course, but it might also be a secretary, or her sister or--she rattled off a list that seems to encompass every woman she’s ever met while married. Maybe its someone she knows. Maybe this back shot will be enough. 

He moves the photo onto a stop bath, and then distilled water before hanging it to dry along the wall of his workspace alongside a dozen or more other photos that are somehow more blurred than this one. 

He’s got to get something that pays more so he doesn’t have to moonlight as a third rate Mickey Spillane. That _kind of_ goes hand in hand with getting the hell off of the crime beat at _New York Mail,_ infamously touted by its own editor as _the seediest_ weekly circular in the city. 

Then he moves over to Hyunjin’s station. There’s two or three photos hastily dunked into the stop bath that need to be rinsed, and a few more overexposed in the developer. 

“Are you kidding me?” Rinsing off the photos, Seungmin realizes that these aren’t artfully staged photos of socialites in ballgowns and their husbands in tuxedos starched stiff. They’re photos of him, of _Hyunjin._ Vain son of a gun. 

The first photo is ambiguous. He’s clearly shirtless, long arms coiling and framing the photo. The second, less so. Clearly taken by someone else, he stands at a window in the _smallest_ pair of black briefs he’s ever seen. 

It’s like the time he somehow beat the cops to a homicide scene while listening to his scanner. Guy got his brains blew out right in the middle of the alleyway. Really, really should’ve looked away but didn’t. He can’t stop looking at these photos of Hyunjin, and just like back then, every second he keeps looking it gets worse. Every second he keeps looking, he keeps noticing just how pretty Hyunjin is: how lithe, how smooth, how dangerous. 

In the third photo, he’s completely naked. Seungmin becomes transfixed on the fact that Hyunjin’s cock is soft in the photo, softer than the velour jacket he likes to wear to society events. But even when he’s soft he’s _huge._

He’s gutsy. Standing in front of an open window like that…

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” With dripping wet photo and tongs in hand, Seungmin races over to his own workspace. “No way. No way. No way. No way.”

Sure enough it’s an exact match. The shape of the window and the shape of the body framed within. _Holy fuck._

He’s gutsy, leaving the images out like that for Seungmin to see. 

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence and calm in the dark room. On one hand, Seungmin doesn’t get paid enough for loyalty. He likes Hyunjin a lot more than the last guy they had in here on the celeb beat, maybe even thinks of him as a friend. Friends don’t take other friend’s negatives. On the other hand...He’s got one killer phone bill from all those calls to Seoul to a guy he’s not even sure that likes him. He could really use the closing fee. 

The chemical bath holds all the answers that he needs. Seungmin looks at the last photo that Hyunjin worked on. The projector beams into chemical solution, on a washed out and overexposed photo, an image clearly taken by Hyunjin. An older man, maybe the kind that looks refined when wearing a suit, definitely the kind that looks undignified when nude, with time exposing all of his flaws. He’s in bed. He’s hard. And like a muted version of like the time he somehow beat the cops to a homicide scene, it makes him just a little bit sick. 

It’s a face that he sees on television, and a face that he’s snapped photos of whenever they needed someone on the political beat. 

It’s the mayor of the city.

Wait, how did he end up with the _mayor’s_ wife as his client for his stupid side job? 

And _why the hell_ is Hyunjin _fucking_ the mayor? 

It’s enough to make his head spin. 

It’s enough to make him move the filmstrip onto the next frame, projecting that image down into developer solution. Enough to slap another photo into the developer solution no sooner than he’s done with the last. As the image slowly crawls onto the paper, he feels his mouth go dry. He parts his lips desperate for more of what the image offers, but all he’s left with is the taste of the air, acrid with solution on his tongue.

Hyunjin’s eyes are cast downward. His lashes are impossibly long. They dissect the truth, and the shining of his eyes, in a thousand or more fragments. His puffy lips always seem to look best when they’re wrapped around something, whether it’s one of the acrid Misty cigarettes that he smokes or a cock. 

And in this photo, it’s the one of the two he hasn’t seen in real life. It’s a cock. 

Another photo is slapped down into the solution, and Seungmin greedily presses it into the liquid, eager to see the image. Slowly, in a way that is not allowed in real time, Hyunjin reveals himself to Seungmin.

It’s unfair that this egotistical bastard fucking Hyunjin had the camera, because his composition is shit. In the gonzo point of view that should’ve died with Thompson, the focus is on his cock. He’s not giving enough attention to Hyunjin’s hole, which he’s absolutely fucking. 

God. Hyunjin’s so pretty, so sultry, it’s obscene. 

For a split second, Seungmin forgets about the cash, and the integrity, and the fact that Hyunjin’s his full time co-worker and part time friend. 

His movements are uncoordinated, much like his efforts to take photos of his target. Each flick of his wrist was designed to bring himself to full hardness, and get himself off quickly. Pride tugs at his ego in tandem strokes with the hand that tugs on his cock.

Lost in the rhythmic thrust of his own hand gliding over his cock. He allows his own imagination to pick up where the photos leave off. Hyunjin looking at him expectantly over his shoulder as he fucks him, silently teasing _is that all you’ve got?_ Hyunjin’s skin glowing with sweat at first, and then becoming slick and damp. Seungmin pulling out at the very last second and cumming across Hyunjin’s face, those perfect puffy lips. 

Seungmin spills into his hand with a whimper. When he opens his eyes again, he scrambles for his tongs, desperate to pull the overexposed photo of Hyunjin, and his target, out of the liquid. 

Seungmin wipes his own cum on his pocket square and numbly sorts through the papers in his workspace. He should work on his write up on a smash and grab that happened at Doyle and Doyle’s Fine Jewelry...But that makes him think of Hyunjin’s watch, which quickly makes him think of Hyunjin’s cock, offensively large even when flaccid, which makes him think of Hyunjin taking cock like a porn star, which--

Seungmin sighs in disgust and picks up the chunky rotary phone. Dials the number to Rigatoni’s from memory, because doing a shameful thing is always easier when you’ve _already_ done something shameful. 

* * *

“I finished your pictures.” They don’t get the chance to _speak_ about it for a few days. “I don’t know if you saw them.” 

A high profile murder case got sent to grand jury and Seungmin’s been camped outside of the courthouse ever since. Hyunjin gets slammed with the seasonal lighting of the christmas tree, ice rink, drivel _in between_ his usual celebrity chasing. 

So when they finally cross paths again, it’s when Hyunjin’s stumbled back to the office at 2:14 in the morning. 

To be honest, he didn’t expect to see him at the office tonight, given what he’d seen him doing from a distance, through this lens earlier. 

Hyunjin’s only response is a low smoky exhale. 

The second hand smoke makes his nose run and his eyes burn and, “I thought I told you to at least lean out the window.” 

“You have all the subtlety of a subway drunk,” Hyunjin says calmly. “Your beater of a car sticks out like a sore thumb, and I can’t unsee it. A tan Tercel with no bumper and a cracked taillight.” 

So it’s like that. They’re going to put on their poker faces even though they’ve both seen each other’s hand. 

“You didn’t even know that it was somebody important did you? You just thought another full of valium and chardonnay housewife was handing you another envelope of cash that you’d already spent before you got it.” There’s a question there, but it’s muted by the one that rings in Seungmin’s mind. Hyunjin looks so exotic in the red safe light: white shirt, loosened tie, exasperated expression as he cards his long, sweat and rain soaked hair away from his face. And, did he look that way to Seungmin _before?_

“Hyunjin, what’s going on?” 

“You go to fucking Columbia. You work the goddamn crime beat. Seungmin for such a smart guy you’re so--” Another plume of smoke interrupts and emphasizes Hyunjin’s frustration. 

Hyunjin turns away from Seungmin and their shared work space. Snubs his cigarette into the ash tray, and procures a large manilla folder from underneath his coat, which he’s haphazardly tossed into the sunken armchair they keep in the dark room to nap in on nights like this. “I started things out with this guy for a little extra cash. Because you know _Mail_ pay is shit. It _seemed_ less dangerous than doing freelance private eye stuff.” He pauses pointedly to look at Seungmin. “He pays people just to go out to dinner. The rest is optional. Real _Pretty Woman,_ sugar daddy shit. Anyway. I realized who he was, and I realized it was a story perfect for a seedy paper. Get some pictures, write up a blurb, get my money, and get my mom something nice for Christmas. But it’s like, so much bigger than that.” With just the right amount of dramatic flair, Hyunjin throws the manila folder onto the work table. “I think. I really do not understand any of this accounting stuff. I think I need help. I think I need a coauthor on this story.” 

Eagerly, Seungmin snaps up some of the papers in the folders. He needs a print calculator and a long roll of ink filled tape to be certain, but if the math in his head is correct, there’s discrepancies _everywhere._ “This is city stuff.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Like city budget stuff.” 

“Uh huh.” Hyunjin’s expression curls into a smile. 

“Like potential evidence of corruption. One person can’t do this alone. It’s wide scale.” His palms feel itchy. 

“Most likely.” Hyunjin handed it to him, insistently even, because it was already waiting in his lap. 

“This is like _Times_ material,” Seungmin speaks excitedly. 

“Probably.” Seungmin might just love him, at least for right now. 

“And after a story like that the authors could probably have their pick of any newsroom in the country.” 

“They’d certainly never have to snap one more seedy picture for _Mail_ ever--” 

Seungmin interrupts him with a kiss, rough and abrupt. He just can’t help himself. Months of joking late night flirting, one night’s worth of obscene photos, a gift that may afford him opportunities for a lifetime all mix together in one acrid solution not unlike film developer. But Seungmin doesn’t expect clarity from it. 

Hyunjin trades his calm, almost blase responses for something more impassioned. Fisting his hands in Seungmin’s lapels, he deepens the kiss, forcing his tongue inside and daring Seungmin to put him in his place. 

Fueled by adrenaline and want, Seungmin does. Threading his fingers into Hyunjin’s long hair, he pulls him back and takes control of the kiss exploring his mouth with his tongue and swallowing up the breathy little noise that he earns in response. “How did you do it?” 

“The first time? I just started rifling through shit after he fucked me.” 

They kiss again, bumping noses and clinking teeth. The kind of graceless thing that belongs in a smoke filled dark room. Once he starts, he cannot stop, kissing Hyunjin again and again and again. Sliding his hands up his sides, he finds and toys with Hyunjin’s nipple, feeling the bud of skin harden beneath his touch.

“This last time? I think he was getting suspicious. So I said I was gonna do some real kinky shit. Tie him up and make him wait for me.” 

“Oh, my god,” Seungmin’s voice catches in the most pathetic little whine. Hyunjin cannot think that they’re much different, himself and the politician. Two stupid men ensnared in his smile and the curve of his hips. Seungmin grabs Hyunjin, holds him tight, and grinds against him nevertheless. “Tonight?”

“Yeah. I took everything that was left.” Hyunjin looks at him with a certain kind of dangerous fondness. 

“Did you still fuck him?” 

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin interrupts himself to latch onto Seungmin’s neck. 

“Ah--” Judging by the pressure, the pain, the graze of teeth, he’s going to have an mark there for the days to come that cannot be concealed. 

Hyunjin mouths at the lobe of his ear before whispering to him, husky, sensual, guaranteed to bring his inevitable downfall. “I’m unscrupulous, not cruel.” 

“That’s so dirty.” He means it in a good way. He hopes that Hyunjin understands. It’s so maddeningly hot that Hyunjin would do anything for the story, including letting himself get used... _wanting_ to get used. “Filthy.” He toys with the hem of Hyunjin’s silk shirt. 

“Uh huh,” now it’s Hyunjin’s turn to rut up against him with need. “You know what would be dirtier?” But Hyunjin doesn’t give Seungmin the chance to answer because he’s kissing him again. Playing with the loose silk of his tie, untucking his shirt, Hyunjin takes the lapels into his hands again and violently tugs, popping buttons and ruining the fabric. Long fingers run across his exposed skin.“If you fucked me. I’m all ready to go since I sat on his cock earlier.” 

“And you’re a slut too.” It’s the kind of thing that might sound hot if any other person said it, but he feels so fucking stupid, so helpless when he says it. 

Hyunjin throws his head back in honest to god laughter. “To be fair? I didn’t think you’d fuck me until after we got the story out. You’re usually so serious.” 

Desperate, so desperate to regain some semblance of control, Seungmin swallows the fear that rises up in his throat. Fitfully taking white silk into his hands, he tears at Hyunjin’s shirt, just as Hyunjin did to him and pushes it down his shoulders. “You know how every story has a structure? Headline, topline, the details, and a nice conclusion to wrap it up in a little bow?” Seungmin takes pause to press his mouth to Hyunjin’s once more. 

Hyunjin works his fingers between his slacks and pulls them backward toward one of the desks. 

Hyujin’s legs hit hardwood, Seungmin cages him in with his arms. “After you left all those pictures? So does tonight. Fuck you, pour through the data, then bring the whole city down.” 

“Did you jerk off to them?” Hyunjin punctuates the statement with a _clink_ of his buckle and the zipping sound of his belt pulled through the loops. “The pictures that I left?” 

“Yeah.” Underneath his slacks, _over_ his briefs, real life takes over where photography left off. Hyunjin’s cock has already filled out nicely. Although he’s a generous handful _now,_ he can only assume that there’s _more_ when he’s finally free. Seungmin palms his cock, cups his balls, teases until there’s a satisfying wet patch at the front of his briefs and an urgent whine in his ear. 

“I wanted you to.” 

“How could I not? You’re so fucking pretty.” Seungmin jams his legs in between Hyunjin’s but it isn’t enough. So he turns him around and pulls his slacks and underwear the rest of the way down. 

With shaking hands that just _won’t_ work right, Seungmin fumbles for his belt and his own jeans. 

Seemingly from thin air, Hyunjin procures a condom and a small lubricant packet, the white sterile, pharmaceutical kind, not the vibrant purple and lime green colored ones that you get at video arcades and sex shops, seemingly from thin air...Seems like he’d been prepared for _wherever_ the night was going to take him. 

“Real thing’s so much better,” he stammers, trying to roll the condom down his own cock. Takes far longer than it should as he watches Hyunjin tease his own hole with long, lube covered, crimson light bathed fingers. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Seungmin, fuck me.” It’s an order, not a request as he braces himself on the desk.

In the faint glow of blood red light, time slows down. Seungmin watches everything through shadow and the hints of shapes. The tip of his cock pressing, then disappearing into Hyunjin’s hole. The outline of his fingers melting into Hyunjin’s back into one single sea of red skin.

Even though his cock slid in easily, even though he’s already been fucked once tonight, Hyunjin still feels so impossibly tight. Squeezing on his cock like he doesn’t want him to pull out. 

The only thing bright enough to cut through the dark is the sound of Hyunjin’s voice, a low and needy moan. 

“God, you’re huge.” Hyunjin looks at him over his shoulder, lips drawn into a pout sweat beading at his temple. 

“You’re really tight.” Like really, really tight. Like he might bust right then and there if he’s not careful. Seungmin leans forward to kiss Hyunjin. His knees buckle ever so slightly when he pushes in deeper, and it’s Seungmin’s job to steady him. 

Even though they’ve kissed so many times already, this one seems slower. This one seems needier. This one feels forbidden. And when they part with a sticky smack, both of them feel hell bent on erasing it. 

Hyunjin pushes back against his cock. Seungmin pulls almost all the way out until the head of his cock is caught at the rim. Only then does he slam back inside with a bodily _smack._ Threading his fingers into Hyunjin’s blonde hair once again, he pulls him back forcing access to the smooth expanse of his neck. Kissing gently while he fucks roughly, and repeating this over, and over, and over again until he feels like he understands. Hyunjin and his beautiful face, the cloying pull of his body, are absolutely worth risking it all for, worth throwing it all away for. 

Just like that it’s all balled up and tossed out. What coils _tighter, tighter, tighter,_ at the base of his stomach snaps free and he’s cumming deep inside of Hyunjin. Cursing the thin barrier of the condom while it happens. 

Only then does consideration come back to him. Hyunjin fists himself frantically and pushes back against his cock, rapidly softening, but still buried deep inside. Seungmin’s hand joins Hyunjin’s own, and together they chase his orgasm fisting his cock tightly until he’s spilling all over a disorganized pile of papers and their hands. 

Still panting, Hyunjin wipes cum off of his stomach with Seungmin’s shirt. 

What the hell is he supposed to wear now? 

With shaky legs, he stumbles over to the coffee pot and slams the button. “Well come on, we’ve got city to bring down.” 

Seungmin might just love him, at least for right now. 

**Author's Note:**

> @missbluniverse on twitter


End file.
